Colors: Some Days Life Is Just One Big Grey Area
by Liv Wilder
Summary: Post-ep 5x19 'The Lives of Others' - "Detective, please come in and close the door," instructs Captain Victoria Gates, the fingers of both hands splayed out on the surface of her desk, propping her up until she sits, smoothing down the skirt of her grey wool suit, after nodding for her best Detective to do the same. "Mr. Castle's party went well, I hope?" COMPLETE


_A/N: This idea came out of reader review from sarahspencer125 for 'The Detective with the Pearl Earrings', in which she wondered how the conversation between Kate Beckett and Captain Gates would have gone. I know this is a slightly different take on the conversation she meant. But I hope you like it anyway. This story kind of ties into 'If I Could Steal A Rainbow I'd Give You Violet' too._

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'_In motorsports we work in the grey areas a lot. You're trying to find where the holes are in the rule book.'_

_-Danica Patrick, NASCAR driver._

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_**Some Days Life Is Just One Big Grey Area**_

"Detective, please come in and close the door," instructs Captain Victoria Gates, the fingers of both hands splayed out on the surface of her desk, propping her up until she sits, smoothing down the skirt of her grey wool suit, after nodding for her best Detective to do the same.

"CSU are still dragging their heels on the touch DNA we were hoping to get from the victim's iPad screen," Kate tells her Captain, crossing her legs and settling back into one of the two guest chairs positioned opposite her boss's desk.

She runs her hand down the front of her black pants, straightening the sharp crease as she goes, waiting for her boss to respond.

"Mr. Castle's party went well, I hope?" asks Captain Gates, throwing Kate into something of a minor tailspin with this unexpected question.

They haven't spoken since the party and she was kind of hoping to gloss over the event completely. She's pretty sure Gates knows about her relationship with Castle. Has probably known about if for some time. But she was equally sure that the woman would never bring it up with her directly, at the risk of embarrassing them both.

Apparently she was wrong.

* * *

"Eh…his…_yes!_ Big success. Thank you for asking. And thank _you _for helping out...for playing along. He totally bought the dressing down you gave him," laughs Kate, her mouth suddenly dry, her upper lip catching on her teeth.

"Oh, that part was easy," assures her boss, tapping the side of her nose as if they now share some intimate secret.

"Yes," smiles Kate, uncomfortably. "He was nothing if not surprised. Never suspected a thing."

"Good. I'm only sorry I couldn't have been there to see the look on his face myself…" she laughs, her eyes dancing a little crazily.

"Oh, we were too, Sir," lies Kate. "Even the boys were saying… _Such_ a shame."

"Uh-huh," says Gates, doubtfully. "Well, I just hope Mr. Castle appreciates all the trouble you went to on his behalf."

"Oh, he was _very_ grateful," blurts Kate, nodding a little too vigorously, feeling her cheeks flush the instant she realizes how that might sound. How it _actually_ sounds…since it's true. He was _very_ grateful…_repeatedly. _Her dreamy grin isn't helping either.

"I don't need details, Detective," admonishes Captain Gates. "A simple yes would have sufficed."

"Yes, Sir," nods Kate, swallowing thickly, tapping the heel of her boot on the floor and counting the seconds until she can get out of here.

* * *

She's about to change the subject by saying something more about their current open case when…

"So…he's still at home recuperating. From a broken knee cap you say?"

"He…uh…yes. He…that is…" Kate frowns, picking a piece of lint off her pants before taking a deep breath.

They're both dancing around the enormous grey elephant in the room, she's pretty sure, and the tension is getting to be more than Kate can bear. She wishes Castle were here to say something stupid and inappropriate, something that would annoy the Captain so much she would cut him to the quick and then throw them both out of her office.

But alas…he is still recuperating. Damn that showy tail grab manoeuver.

"Yes. Stupid skiing accident," says Kate, trying to laugh it off with an eye-roll and a look that says 'isn't my partner is a klutz'.

But she instantly hates herself, because Gates is totally buying it and she's selling out the man she loves. Because, truth be known, Richard Castle is actually no slouch on a pair of skis.

"Ah, skiing. Yes. Risky business," nods Gates, a tight smile on her face.

"Actually, Sir, that's not totally accurate," says Kate, belatedly wondering when she lost control of her own mouth.

Captain Gates crosses her arms, wrinkling the sleeves of her suit jacket in the process, the light grey fabric gaping open at the lapels, exposing more of the blood red satin blouse she's wearing underneath.

"He wasn't skiing?" frowns Gates, cocking her head to one side.

"No. He was."

"Then I don't understand, Detective. He either _was_ or he _wasn't_."

"Sir, it's just that…_we_ were on a skiing trip," confesses Kate, pursing her lips when her announcement is met by the kind of all consuming, deathly silence only found in the morgue…or deep space.

"_We?_ As in…"

"Both of us," nods Kate, her fingers lingering over the cool metal of her badge for some reason that seems to be psychosomatic, but that she hopes won't give Gates any ideas if she sees the move for herself.

So she hurriedly clasps her fidgety hands in her lap and waits for whatever's coming next.

"Some kind of…" Gates shakes her head, obviously at a bit of a loss to explain their joint ski trip, "_…bonding_ exercise?" she suggests, and Kate almost chokes on her own tongue.

Because yeah, there was _bonding_ involved alright. There was even a session or two of _bondage_. But she's pretty sure Gates doesn't mean it that way…

* * *

"_Detective?_" the Captain prompts before Kate can fully gather thoughts enough to answer coherently.

"Uh…yes, Sir?"

"How long…?"

"S-six nights in Aspen. We…uh…we had to cut it short by a day to get him home to the hospital to see a specialist orthopedic surgeon."

"A specialist? Of course. And _six_ nights in Aspen," repeats Gates, her voice taking on a tone of wonder as she nods thoughtfully, so thoughtfully that Kate gets a very uneasy feeling in her gut.

Because she thought she was in here confessing and _now_…now she has no clue what is going on.

"Hotel? Or did our resident writer spring for a nice chalet?" she purrs, pursing her lips in that distasteful way of hers when referring to anything Castle-related.

"We…that is _he_…" Kate begins to ramble, before catching herself. "We stayed in a chalet, Sir. Five bedrooms," she supplies, needlessly adding this last piece of information in the vague hope, she supposes, that her boss will somehow think that they're not sleeping together.

"Five bedrooms. How nice. Lovely views, I assume?"

"Beautiful. Sir, did you ask me in here to…"

"I asked you in here to talk about the case, Detective. But it seems we both got a little more out of this discussion than we bargained for."

"Oh?" asks Kate, curiously, the deep sinking feeling returning with a vengeance.

"When I said _how long_…"

And then the penny drops…several minutes and a whole needlessly blurted confession too late.

"You didn't mean how long were we in Aspen, did you?" replies Kate, sheepishly, glancing up from her lap to look at her boss, her blood running cold.

"No."

"You meant how long until we get the results back from CSU."

"Very astute of you, Detective."

"Sadly, a little too late," mutters Kate, digging her nails in to the palm of her hand.

* * *

The 'in space no one can hear you scream' silence returns to Gates' office. And it's so all-encompassing that you could hear the _head_ of a pin drop.

"Sir, if I could just exp…" Kate tries to say.

But Gates cuts her off.

"Detective Beckett…"

"Sir?"

"You are one of _the_ best female homicide detectives the NYPD has ever employed and you have the solve rate to prove it. Women in positions of influence and authority in this Department are far too rare in my opinion. I believe that you have a great career ahead of you."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Just a second, Detective. I haven't quite finished."

"Sorry, Sir."

"Your…_partnership_ with Mr. Castle has always been unorthodox. But I have tolerated it because his somewhat…_unique_ insights do seem to add to our ability to come at cases from a slightly different perspective. What I will not tolerate, however, is any factor that might prevent you or any of your team from doing their jobs. Do you understand what I'm saying, Detective?"

Kate knows she has made one error of judgement too many already this morning, and to second guess her boss's meaning would be folly at this point, so she decides to play on the side of caution.

"Sir?"

"There are times out in the field when difficult decisions have to be made – to shoot or not to shoot, for example. Having a civilian on the team has always been a risk for that very reason. Having a…"

Gates shrugs and shakes her head, uncertain what to call this relationship between her lead detective and the mystery writer.

"Sir, are you questioning my ability to do my job?" asks Kate, her tone instantly defensive and challenging.

"No. I'm questioning your ability to choose head over heart."

"Sir, I have worked with this man for over fours years…"

"But you haven't been _involved_ with him before now. Or am I wrong about that too?"

"I know how to do my job," insists Kate, ignoring the question as to the timing of their intimate relationship, because who can say when that really began after all. "And I'm quite capable of separating my personal life from my work, Captain."

"Are you sure about that?" asks Gates quietly. "And is _he?_ Because in my experience, life isn't quite that black and white, Detective. The world we inhabit involves infinite shades of grey. And by '_shades of grey'_ I do _not_ mean that salacious tripe some women see fit to call literature."

Kate blanches at the imagine of Captain Gates sitting up in bed at night thumbing her way through a copy of _Fifty Shades of Grey_.

* * *

"His daughter was kidnapped. And I did my job," she insists, landing on a very recent example to highlight her professionalism.

"From what I understand, he left you no choice," points out Gates, stingingly.

Kate swallows down the hurt that flares up inside her, remembering Castle's betrayal.

"That is as maybe. Point is we work well together. We have each other's backs. He fits in with my team, Sir. And he signed a _waver_. The Department is covered."

"Not everything is about the Department with me, Detective. I care what happens to my men. Mr. Castle included, believe it or not."

"Sir, I can do this. _We_ can do this," insists Kate, pleading their case.

"You know, Kate," says the Captain, leaning back in her chair, the silver buttons on her grey suit catching the light and blinking at Kate like Morse code, as she bounces gently against the lumbar support. "I actually believe that you can. I just needed to hear it from you."

Kate lets relief wash over her, taking a second or two to let her boss's decision sink in, the threat they've been working under for nearly a year suddenly lifted. And it's like the parting of grey clouds when the sun comes out. The relief at getting to keep her partner so much greater than she imagined the threat to be.

"Thank you, Sir," she replies, her voice betraying her gratitude more than she would like. "You won't regret it."

"Make sure that I don't. Keep your hands to yourselves in my Precinct. Oh, and tell him to leave your Valentine's gift at home next year," says Gates as an afterthought, waving her hand dismissively at Kate to signal that their meeting is over.

Discussion closed.

* * *

Kate walks back out to her desk in a daze, slowly sinks down onto her chair, stretching her long legs out in front of her, suddenly feeling exhausted. It's barely after nine a.m.

She picks up the phone and begins to dial, waiting impatiently for the call to connect.

Excitement laces her voice when she speaks.

"Castle? It's me. I have something to tell you."

* * *

**Grey**, _noun_: Grey or gray is an intermediate color between black and white, a neutral or achromatic color, meaning literally a color "without color."

Common connotations are pessimism, depression, blandness, boredom, neutrality, fog, undefinedness, old age, contentment, the brain (grey matter) and speed.

In ethics, grey is either used pejoratively to describe situations that have no clear moral value; "the grey area", or positively to balance an all-black or all-white view - for example, shades of grey represent magnitudes of good and bad.

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_A/N: Amazing response to 'Pearl'. Thank you! Hope this short story also went some small way to filling in some more off-screen gaps. As always, love to hear your thoughts?_


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